


Calculus and Coffee

by bachelorgirl



Category: Bare: A Pop Opera
Genre: M/M, post-musical
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-07-26
Updated: 2009-07-26
Packaged: 2017-10-14 20:09:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,838
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/152991
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bachelorgirl/pseuds/bachelorgirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Peter goes to college. Eventually, everyone has to move on. Written for smallfandomfest. Prompt: Peter - the next great love.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Calculus and Coffee

Peter had been staring at his calculus textbook for so long that the symbols were swimming in front of his eyes and he was almost convinced that there was a secret code that would reveal the location of Monty Python's Holy Grail if he just kept staring a little bit longer.

He groaned and sighed and put his head down on the desk and closed his eyes. Just for a minute and wondering, not for the first time, what had possessed him to take calculus in the first place. Never mind for a second time, with added difficulty, longer lectures, and even more opportunities for self-flagellation.

He didn't realize he'd even been close to falling asleep until he felt someone gently shaking his shoulder and he sat up with a start.

"Did I sleep through calculus?" Peter asked sleepily, rubbing at his eyes and staring in what he hoped was the general direction the person standing above him.

"Well," the person replied and, as he was speaking, Peter noticed his dark hair that was falling messily into his very green eyes. They were the greenest eyes he'd ever seen and they were really kind of distracting.

"Wait, I'm sorry. What?" Peter rubbed his eyes again and tried to pass off his glaring aura of stupidity as being half-asleep as opposed to completely distracted by the blinding green of his eyes.

"Well, I'm not sure I know your schedule, but considering that they're clearing out the library for the night, I'd say that odds are pretty good that you probably slept through... what was it? Calculus?" His smile was sympathetic and also really distracting.

"Probably not the best start to the semester?" Peter replied, tossing his books into his bag, looking at his watch. "If I ran, I could probably catch the last 15 minutes. The Calc II seminar is, what, an hour?"

"Trust me. Been there, done that. So not worth the effort."

"Well, you made it out alive. And I think there's another seminar tomorrow. I just really didn't want to schedule a calculus seminar on a Thursday evening because I only have two of my theatre classes on Thursday morning and then I had the whole rest of the day off and it seemed really annoying to randomly have a calculus seminar on Thursday evening because that would kinda ruin the whole rest of the night and you really don't want to hear about this. I'm rambling and I'm sorry." Peter slammed his mouth shut and willed himself to stop rambling.

"You have theatre classes tomorrow? What do you have?"

"I. Um. Introduction to Performance and Run Crew." Peter found himself randomly following down the stairs and out of the library.

"Yeah? Um, cool. I had Intro to Performance couple of years ago. It's not too bad. And, I think I have Run Crew with you. I'm really looking forward to it. I had another class with Professor Langley last year, it was great."

"Yeah? Cool." Peter adjusted his messenger bag on his shoulder.

"I'm Eric." He held out his hand and Peter took it and shook it easily.

"Peter."

"So, I'll see you tomorrow?" Eric asked.

"Guess so." Peter adjusted his bag one more time before heading in the direction of his dorm with a slow wave.

*&*&*

Peter nervously fidgeted with the schedule on his cell phone and, for the 15th time, made sure that he was in the right place. And, when he confirmed that he was, he walked staunchly in the opposite direction. He was still 10 minutes early and he was the only person there and he felt like an idiot. Like the same awkward freshman he'd been last year and was trying desperately to leave behind. This was not the first sophomore level class he'd ever taken, but it was his first one where he couldn't hide in the last row of lecture hall behind his textbooks and notebooks. And, quite frankly, he was so nervous he was pretty sure he was going to puke if someone so much as breathed in his general direction.

After St. Cecilia's, he'd chosen Berkeley. He couldn't really say why, other than maybe that it was three-quarters of the way across the country from Notre Dame. He'd tossed and turned about the decision and had literally waited until the very last possible second before committing himself to Berkeley. And, now that he was here, he had still been unable to commit himself to a major. Although, "Undecided" pretty much summed up how he felt about the whole situation anyway, so it all seemed appropriate.

He'd arrived on the doorstep of his dorm and had been completely overwhelmed by the entire experience. He'd had a job in the campus Engineering library and between signing up for more courses than his academic advisor had advised and working his ass off in the library, he'd fallen into the pattern of being a hermit. And, he had become too set-in-his ways to change them by the time second semester had come around.

Then, summer had rolled around and he'd stayed at school. He'd taken a full course load, kept his job at the library, and had applied for a job at an on-campus coffee shop. By the end of the summer, he'd managed to earn himself enough credits that he was 2 classes away from finishing his sophomore year and he'd finally decided that he was going to double major in Architecture and Theater Studies. He really liked his architecture classes and, he didn't think he was going to become an actor - he hadn't really liked being on stage very much since his senior play - but his classes with the theater department had been where he'd met the people that he thought he'd want to be friends with. When he finally managed to interact with people outside of class.

Again, he'd had to fight with his course advisor who wasn't too thrilled that he'd picked two completely unrelated double majors, but he'd won out in the end. Probably with the non-insignificant help of Dr. Weston writing a letter on his behalf. And, as the summer had worn on, he'd finished his classes, got the job at the coffee shop, cut back his hours at the library to one day a week, moved into a different dorm, and he was ready to get back to the real life he'd completely ignored for the last year.

Like Run Crew. His brand spanking new class which was going to start in, he looked at his watch, 3 minutes. And which included someone he'd actually had a conversation with and might have some people from his freshman theatre classes and, potentially, things were looking up.

*&*&*

Peter jumped when the phone rang and sighed when he saw the display. He supposed he shouldn't have been surprised. It was Monday afternoon, 6:00pm. The same time his mom had been calling him every week for the last year.

"Hi, Mom." Peter plastered a smile on his face. His mom could hear if he was scowling and he'd learned that if he pretended he was happy, she pretended she was happy and they both went on pretending that things were okay. Which, in its own weird way, actually made both of them happy. It hurt his head to think about it too hard.

"Hi Peter. How was your first week of classes?" He could hear Wheel-of-Fortune on in the background. It seemed to be even further proof that some things never changed.

"It was good. Monday's probably my busiest day, but I only have two classes on Fridays this semester, so my week gets easier as it goes on. And then I had my meeting with Dr. Weston today."

Okay, so bringing up his psychiatrist was a little bit of a low blow. His mom had never understood why he'd chosen a psychiatrist over a priest when he'd held up his part of the bargain with his mother to make sure that he "found someone he could talk to" as a condition of moving to Berkeley. She didn't really like the whole idea. She'd thought he should have joined up with a local church and booked time each week to speak with the Father.

Instead, he'd picked up a phone book and found the first psychiatrist in town with a female first name and showed up on her doorstep. He'd been lucky that she'd turned out to be friendly and quiet and non-judgemental. Talking to her was nothing like confession and now he found himself almost looking forward to their weekly sessions. He wasn't tired after coming home from them anymore and he didn't spend all day Sunday freaking out and worrying himself into a frenzy over saying the right things or the wrong things or not having anything to say.

"Don't you start at the coffee shop tomorrow?" And, Peter knew just how little she wanted to talk about it when she was bringing up his new job at the coffee shop. She hated the fact that he was taking time away from working in the library to work in a campus coffee shop. She'd almost threatened to not pay his dorm bill this semester when he'd told her that he'd gotten a job aside from the library. Until he'd pointed out that he'd have to go part-time and work more hours at the coffee shop to put himself through school if she did that. And, he'd pointed out that he wasn't quitting his job at the library, either. Just taking a normal course load for this first time since arriving at Berkeley.

"Yeah, Mom. I do. After my morning classes." Peter sighed. "I'm looking forward to it. I have physics and drawing. And, I have scene design class on Wednesday, which I'm really excited about. It's an upper-level class and I'm probably going to be way over my head, but there's this worksho-"

"Oh, Peter. My dentist's office is on the other line. I really should take this. I'll talk to you later, okay honey?"

Peter rolled his eyes. "Sure Mom. I'll talk to you later." And quietly hung up his phone and tossed it onto his bed. He really hated that some things were seemingly never going to change.

But, today, coincidentally, he and Dr. Weston had had a long discussion about how he couldn't change everyone else, but she had reassured him that he'd already started doing a pretty good job of working on changing himself.

*&*&*

The interior of The Grind was a sight to behold. A large room full of mismatched sofas and armchairs and coffee tables with people and books and laptops and coffee cups everywhere. There were four televisions in four corners of the room playing four different shows. People were studying and chatting and watching tv and tapping away on their laptops and napping. And, yet, somehow, it wasn't chaos. It was... cozy.

"Hey. I'm Peter. I'm supposed to be..." Peter made an abstract gesture with his hands.

"Hey Peter. I'm Jess," she replied, sticking out her right hand with a huge smile. "Welcome to The Grind." She reached behind the counter and grabbed a green apron. "Have a smock. Let's get to the good stuff."

The coffee shop was simultaneously completely overwhelming and completely welcoming and he thought he was really going to like working in the cafe. It was fun to work with other people for once, which made a nice change from the library. He imagined that the people who put enough thought into their beverages to realize that their preferred beverage of choice was a medium, no foam, extra hot, triple shot, one-half sweet, sugar-free half-caf vanilla soy latte in a large cup with one packet of Splenda were probably going to get on his nerves eventually, but provided he could ever remember how many shots of caramel syrup went into a large caramel latte and what the difference in temperature between a regular and an extra-hot macchiato was, he figured he could probably handle it.

Jessica had promised that she was going to teach him all about the joy of working at the sandwich counter on his next shift.

And, not to mention, he was fairly certain that the customer he'd successfully managed to make a large latte for - on his first try, thank you very much - had been flirting with him. His name was Aaron and he had an adorable sprinkling of freckles across his nose.

*&*&*

Over the next week, Peter learned his way around the cash register, the sandwiches, the smoothies, and managed to master the espresso maker - honestly, he was some kind of a coffee-based-drink savant - and he was still loving life at the coffee shop. His co-workers were completely awesome and they'd taken to heading out at the end of closing shifts to the campus bar for a beer a couple of times a week. Sometimes they were also joined by some of the off-duty co-workers who were looking for an excuse to step away from the books for a while and share work horror stories, school horror stories and dating horror stories while consuming large amounts of alcohol and eating nachos smothered in cheese and beef.

The first time that someone had mentioned Aaron and Peter had turned an interesting shade of reddish-purple and nearly choked on a nacho was pretty much all it had taken to push open his closet door to the rest of the coworkers.

The cast rotated a bit, but Jess - the sophomore English major who'd done his training for the first week, her twin brother Marcus who wanted to be a mechanical engineer, two freshman girls named Maria and Amy who were majoring in history and economics and who had really good fake IDs, the other Peter (who'd officially become known as "Pete" or "Redhead Peter" to try to reduce potential confusion) who was a music major and Henry who was pre-med and never seemed to study anything but still managed to know everything about everything all the time, were the regulars. And himself.

He was a regular. Tuesdays and Thursdays at the corner table in the back.

It was really kind of awesome.

So far, this whole "Operation: Normal Sophomore" was working out quite nicely. He had a standing Tuesday afternoon study group with his Energy and Environment class before his Tuesday shift at the library, Monday mornings his Structures project team got together for meetings and he and three other people from his English class usually met Saturday mornings for coffee and casual conversation about whatever they were reading since all three of them had afternoon shifts at on-campus libraries.

Even if he did have to endure endless amounts of good-natured teasing about Aaron every time he came into the coffee shop, Tuesdays and Thursdays were still his favourite days of the week.

But, it was okay. Everyone bugged Amy about the time an entire cup of steamed milk exploded all over the counter when she was staring at a guy in the back corner and Ashley when she somehow managed to cut through a plastic cutting board while chatting up a cute member of the football team. Or, Marcus when he made a blueberry-raspberry smoothie without putting the lid on the blender when his Fluid Dynamics seminar TA showed up at the smoothie bar. It was just that not everyone had their own repeat customer. Peter didn't tell them that Aaron sometimes showed up at the library on Saturday afternoons, too.

They had fun with Aaron. Making sure that Peter was performing the most random and inane tasks whenever Aaron came into the Grind became the official "Shift B" pastime. Coldest day of the year? Peter was in charge of smoothies. Four thousand degrees outside? Peter was making espresso. If the shop was almost completely empty and there were three people (usually Jess, Maria, and Henry) behind the counter waiting to take his order, Peter was off in a remote corner of the coffee shop cleaning the televisions. Aaron would come in with a bagel in his hand, clearly in the market for a cup of coffee, Peter would be in charge of sandwiches.

*&*&*

"Hey, Peter."

Peter looked up and saw Eric's distracting green eyes watching him from across the counter. Peter tossed his pencil onto his calculus textbook and grinned up at him from behind the help desk.

"What's up?"

"The, um, computer terminal in the back corner made a weird noise and then shut off and I can't seem to get it to turn back on. I've unplugged it and plugged it back in and tried every single button and switch I can find. I've even tried asking politely and then cursing it in high school Latin. But, seriously, I got nothing."

"The one under the sketchy poster of the gorilla with the books?"

"That's the one." Eric's smile was blinding.

"Yeah, it does that every once in a while. The IT department pretty much need to take the whole thing apart and perform some voodoo black magic. If you're not done searching the database, you can use the computer at the help desk. The admin computers are the only other ones with access." Peter held open the door in the side of the help desk. "Come on in."

"Oh, man. Thanks. Let me just go grab my stuff."

Eric had himself all settled in, stuff piled around him. And Peter found himself spending more time trying to figure out how Eric managed to type with his right hand, scribble notes with his left hand, balance a notebook on his left knee and a textbook on his right than he did working on his calculus problem set.

Particularly since he had absolutely no idea what to do for the last 5 problems that had been mocking him for the last hour and a half. He tossed his book across the table and sighed.

"Should I hide?" Eric asked, grinning over at him.

"Nah, that's the only calculus textbook I have, so I'm out of weapons."

"What's giving you trouble?"

"Three dimensional space. Seriously. I'm so over it. I'm ready to design nothing but 2 dimensional buildings for the rest of my life."

"I'm sure there's a good market for that." Eric pushed all of his stuff onto a messy pile on the desk. "Here. Let me see." He reached for Peter's book and grabbed a green pen and started scribbling explanations and diagrams and examples in the margins. Somehow making it all make sense and, in the process, making himself indispensible to Peter's future calculus career.

When he told Eric as such, Eric had just laughed and scribbled his phone number in the front cover of Peter's calculus textbook. "I'm sometimes here on Saturday afternoons with my geometry study group. So, just send me a text message or whatever and see if I'm around."

"I work Tuesday and Thursday afternoons at The Grind. If you ever need any sort of caffeinated beverage, smoothie or sandwich, you know where to find me. I will caffeinate the shit out of you if you save me from having to design buildings for flat people for the rest of my life."

"Deal." Eric held out his hand for Peter to shake. "I have theatre history on Tuesday evenings. I can't think of when I'll ever have a better need of caffeine. I like my macchiatos to be hot, caffeinated and full of caramel."

Peter grinned. "I'll hook you up like you've never been hooked before."

*&*&*

It was a random Friday afternoon and Peter had switched schedules with Amy and Jess had switched with her brother and they were working with Maria and Pete on Shift C. Peter had rehearsal for Ainsley's play starting next week so he'd needed to move his weekly schedule around a bit, and Jess had declared herself completely co-dependently attached to Peter and had followed him.

Fortunately, or unfortunately, Shift C hadn't really mastered the art form of torturing Aaron and Peter found himself making espresso drinks early Wednesday morning just before the coffee rush when Aaron peeked over the top of the espresso machine.

"Hey Peter. You didn't have a shift at the library this week?"

"Hey Aaron. Nah, one of the girls I work with needed a bit of extra cash. The usual?" Peter asked, picking up Aaron's cup without reading the side, which would undoubtedly have the usual shorthand for medium latte and Aaron's name scribbled along the side. Labelled coffee cups and cofee-shop name tags really took all of the awkward introductions out of this scenario quite conveniently.

Aaron nodded and then paused and fidgeted. "You, uh. Maybe wanna go out sometime? Like, to a movie or something?" Aaron's voice was low and he looked at the floor nervously.

Peter felt himself his stomach lurch nervously. "Yeah. I think that would be fun." He was flushed, probably bright red from his hairline all the way down under the collar of his shirt.

"Do you, um. Do you work tomorrow?" Aaron nervously picked at the cardboard sleeve around the cup of his latte.

Peter nodded. "I'm, um. Yeah. I picked up a shift. But, I'm off at 8. We could do a movie after?" His jaw nearly dropped at his own casual-sounding tone. It sounded like he was _good at this_.

"Cool." The relief was visible on Aaron's face. "I'll meet you here."

Peter nodded, trying not to smile stupidly as he handed over Aaron's coffee. "Cool."

Aaron gave him a smile and walked away.

Peter felt someone come behind him and bump their hip into his. Looking over, he saw Jess grinning at him .

"Now I just have to not screw it up. Do you know how long it's been since I've been on a date? I'm practically a nun. Or a monk. Or whatever. What was I thinking? Also, hello. Did you hear me? I don't sound like that!"

"I think you're being a bit over-dramatic." Jess thwacked him over the head with the empty paper-towel roll.

"No seriously Jess. I think it's been. Um," he thought about it. "Well, possibly ever." That was kind of a sobering thought. "I don't think I've ever actually been on a _date_ date. Now that I think about it. Wow. That's kind of lame."

"What about...? Your last boyfr"

Peter shook his head. "We didn't. You know. It wasn't really like that. And, that's..." Not something he wanted to talk about. He could feel the glare on his face and he immediately felt bad.

"Off limits," she held her hands up. "Okay. So, seriously. It's not that hard. You go to a movie. Maybe you watch the movie, maybe you make out in the back row. Then, if you're having a good time, maybe you go for coffee. If it sucks, maybe you don't. And, then you go home. As long as you don't spill the entire contents of your soda or your popcorn all over him, you'll be totally fine. Just wear that pretty blue shirt and those really cute jeans and trust me. You won't have a problem."

Peter smiled a little, but he could tell that it probably looked very nervous. "You mean the ones where you keep feeling compelled to shove your hands into my back pockets?"

"Those are the ones. They make your ass look spectacular. Which you know, because I tell you that every time you wear them."

Peter sat down, the morning rush dying down just a little bit. "I think I'm going to vomit."

"Gross," Jessica replied. "Also, it might be a good idea not to throw up on him, either."

Peter looked over at her and glared. "Thanks." It was really great to have yet another thing to worry about.

She shrugged as she wiped the counter down. "I'm just sayin'."

*&*&*

Aaron reached over and took his hand halfway through the movie and Peter grinned wide. This was pretty much how this was supposed to go, wasn't it? It wasn't so bad. The walk to the theatre had been slightly awkward, walking slightly out of step. But, then Aaron bought the tickets, Peter sprang for the popcorn and drinks and the whole thing was actually surprisingly easy. Aaron was easy to talk to while they waited for the movie to start. It turned out that, as a mechanical engineering major, they had a lot of overlapping knowledge, the same obsession with stealing their roommates' Xboxes when they were out of town and killing a ridiculous number of hours playing Halo, and watching X-Files reruns on cable when they didn't have morning classes.

As soon as the lights came up, Aaron let go of his hand and resumed walking slightly ahead of him again, slightly out of step and Peter found himself frowning. There was something about this that wasn't sitting right. He ignored the little voice in the back of his head, pushed the sinking feeling in his stomach to the very bottom and proceeded to smile over at Aaron.

"You want to go for a cup of coffee? There's a Starbucks at this corner." Peter pointed at the next intersection and smiled in relief when Aaron nodded.

"You'd think I'd be sick of coffee," Peter said with a smile as they grabbed their drinks and a table in the back. Aaron kept both of his hands wrapped tightly around the cup of coffee. And, when Peter had tried to scoot his chair immeasurably closer, Aaron had excused himself to go to the bathroom and had come back, carefully moving his chair away. Peter felt his stomach sink halfway to his feet.

"You know, when you asked me out tonight, I assumed that it was because you liked me. I'm sorry if I've done anything to change your mind." He chose his words carefully. "About me, I mean."

"No. No it's not like that. I've been having a good time." Aaron stared at his coffee like it held the answers to the universe.

"This was a date, right?" Peter asked, just to cover the other possibility. Even though Aaron's behaviour in the movie theatre indicated without a doubt that it was, in fact, a date.

"Yeah." Aaron nodded.

"And," Peter tried once for humour before he finished drawing conclusions that were probably going to bring this otherwise pleasant evening to a painfully abrupt halt. "I don't smell, right?"

Aaron shook his head. "Only like your aftershave. Which smells nice." His voice was very low.

"But?" Peter waited.

"It's just. You know." He gestured to the half-full Starbucks.

"Public. Yeah." Peter felt his stomach sink the rest of the way to his feet.

"You know?" Aaron's eyes were a little bit sad.

Peter took a deep breath and said. "I do. I totally get it. And, I'm sorry. Really."

Aaron looked surprised. "Sorry? For what?"

"I can't, you know? Again." Peter closed his eyes and exhaled loudly.

"You... can't? Can't what? Again? What are you talking about?" Aaron looked confused and Peter couldn't blame him. He really sucked at explaining things.

"I can't only hold hands in the dark and sit on opposite sides of the table or the couch. Or, pretend that we don't know each other when we pass in the hall or pretend that it doesn't bother me when my boyfriend takes a girl out on a date to a party that I'm at too. Or watch someone not be happy with who they are in private so they have to be someone else in public. I can't and I'm sorry and Aaron, I think you're awesome. You're funny and hot and, you know, if things were different, I bet this could have been fun." Peter pushed his chair gently back from the table, careful not to make an abrupt movement or loud noise. "I really do."

Aaron looked up at him. The hurt was obvious on his face and Peter felt a stabbing pain in his chest. "So, because I don't wave a rainbow flag or want everyone to know my business, we can't do this?"

Peter shook his head and smiled apologetically. "Yeah." He was almost surprised at how easy it was. "Yeah, you know. It's a dealbreaker. I'm sorry. But, hey, if you ever need a friend. Or, you know, someone to talk to, I might not be very helpful, but you know where I am."

Peter walked slowly out of the coffee shop, pulling his wallet out of his pocket and fumbling for his bus pass. He'd just grabbed it between his fingers when his vision blurred and he found himself ducking into the alley beside the building, wiping the tears from his eyes with the back of his hand. Okay, maybe not so easy after all.

It was a short outburst, he cried for maybe 2 solid minutes. It was messy and loud and his face was wet and probably red and splotchy and he really didn't feel like getting on the bus. He pulled out his phone to call a cab. And, then he quickly dialled Dr. Weston's number while he waited.

"Dr. Weston. Hi. It's um, Peter. I um. I know you sometimes have Saturday office hours. And, um, it's Friday night at, like, 11:30 or something and I was wondering if maybe if you had an extra slot. Um. You can call me tomorrow and let me know. If, um, not. I'll, um. See you on Monday?" He cleared his throat. "My number is 510-882-8984. Which you know. Yeah. Okay, um and maybe I'll just talk to you on Monday. Or something."

He hung up and stood on the street corner and just felt kind of stupid and just wanted to be home. In his dorm room at St. Cecilia's. In another life, when everything was easier. It wasn't good, it wasn't even _better_ , but it was familiar and right now that sounded pretty damn close to good.

*&*&*

Peter didn't sleep. He stayed up all night, thinking. He thought himself around in circles for the entire night, and had decided that he was happy with his decision. About 7:30am he decided that he actually perfectly okay with it and took a shower and got up and grabbed his script for Ainsley's play and headed for breakfast in the dining hall.

And, then after breakfast, he found himself headed for the Queer Alliance and Resource Center. Fuck easier. He was going for better. No, screw that. He was going for _great_.

Behind the desk was a tiny girl with short black hair with green streaks. "Hey. I'm Allie. What can I do for you?" she asked, all smiles.

"Peter. I, um. Okay. This is going to sound weird."

She smiled. "I sincerely doubt that it will be weirdest thing that I've heard. Probably even not the weirdest thing I've heard today. But, it's not a contest, hon. What can I do for you? And, if you don't want to talk to me, Kevin's in the back. He's, you know, a guy. If that's what you're into." She spun her chair in a circle and pointed towards the back.

Peter smiled. "Nah. It's nothing like that. I just...." he looked around. "I need something. You know, like a necklace or a bracelet or something..." he trailed off and gestured abstractly. "I didn't really know... this, well, I figured it for a good place to start."

"Ah," she replied with a smile, pushing herself out of her chair. "Now that? That I can do. And, trust me. If you think that's weird, you need to get out more."

She dug through the top drawer of the desk she had been sitting at and pulled out a purple triangle pin with a simple rainbow design and affixed it firmly to his messenger bag. "Step one. Come with me, Vanilla Bean. I know just the thing."

She led him into what appeared to be a storage room and pointed at a box on the very top shelf. "If you please."

He smiled and pulled it down for her and placed it on the floor carefully. She knelt down and started digging through the contents until she pulled out a thin brown leather cord with 12 small matte silver and rainbow beads. She grinned as she tied it snugly around his wrist. "Step Two. From pride last year. We've been saving the few leftovers for just such an occasion."

Peter admired the bracelet quietly for a moment, liking the way that it looked there. Unassuming. But, saying exactly what he wanted it to. "It's perfect," He said, almost to himself. "I'm afraid to ask if there's a step three."

She grinned at him. "Of course there's a step three." She grinned wickedly at him and slapped a bright rainbow-swirled sticker on the back pocket of his jeans. "There you are. You're here, you're queer and now you can spread the word far and wide and inflict your fabulousness on the world. And, whatever poor unsuspecting boy who's going to be very happy when he sees your newly-acquired rainbow accoutrements." She raised an eyebrow at him.

Peter smiled. _If only_. "Nah. This was just for me. But, seriously, thank you. How much --?" he asked, reaching into his pocket for his wallet.

She laughed at him. "Dude. It's nothing. Put your damn money away. Unless you want to put some money in the cookie jar. It's for Equality California."

Peter grinned and tossed a couple of bills in the jar.

"And, hey, if you're still feeling all sunshine, lollipops and rainbows by Monday, there's a QA, Queer Alliance, meeting Monday at 5 o'clock. Right here. And, if not, Queer Diversions is Tuesday night. Eight o'clock, same place, usually. Though, we're relocating to the hill for fun during the good weather. It's just chill. This week I think we're literally having a scrabble tournament. The more the merrier. You can even be on my team, Vanilla Bean." She handed him a blue piece of paper with a list of those names and dates and places and about a hundred more.

"I'm working here Monday afternoon, so if you want to meet up with me and walk over to QD, just give me a call and we can leave from wherever you are. Anyway, it's all on here," she circled the phone number for the center with a silver sharpie. "Think about it. And, if you need anything else, stop by anytime." She gestured to the counter that had every available square inch of space filled with brochures and pamphlets and even jars full of a rainbow-coloured assortment of candy and condoms.

"I think I just might," he replied. "Especially if I ever find myself in need of anything from the candy jar." His heart felt a million times lighter as he laughed and winked at Allie and headed back out towards the sunshine.

*&*&*

"How was the date?" Jess jumped up beside him when he arrived for a Sunday afternoon shift.

"He's hot and funny and we have a ton in common and, yeah." Peter shrugged. "We won't be doing that again."

Jess looked back at him, dropping the knife she was holding onto the counter. "Say what now?" She rested her hand on her hip and tapped her foot on the floor.

"Yeah, not going to work out." Peter scrubbed at an imaginary spot on the counter.

"Third nipple?" she asked.

Peter snorted. "Wouldn't know."

"Halitosis?"

Peter smiled. "Again. Wouldn't know."

"Well, then?" If she had been anyone else, he probably would have found her annoying. But, right now, he found himself almost looking for the opportunity to talk to someone who was not Dr. Weston. Even though she'd squeezed him in on Saturday after his shift at the library, it would be nice to tell someone who just wanted to listen for the sake of listening.

"It's just... not going to work." Peter shrugged. Okay, so that wasn't very revealing.

Jess nodded. "You want coffee bar or sandwiches?"

"I'll take coffee. I think I probably need four or five." He loved her.

"Cool." Jess went back to making bagels for the grab'n'go sandwich counter.

Peter sighed. "Closet case." His voice was low and he spoke pretty much directly into the espresso maker, but he knew that Jess had heard him. And the defeated tone in his voice.

"I'll have the rumour about the mechanical engineering major with the halitosis and the third-nipple spread around 85% of the campus by tomorrow morning." Jess didn't even look over at him. Just kept spreading cream cheese onto sesame seed bagels and wrapping them in cellophane.

*&*&*

Peter sighed as he gathered his courage to pick up the phone. It didn't make any sense. He wasn't asking her on a date. This shouldn't be so nerve racking. And, besides, she'd pretty much already asked him anyway. This was just like a confirmation call. There was nothing cold call about it.

The voice on the other end answered after a ring and a half. "QARC. This is Allie. Andrew is at the other extension, if you want to hang up and call back to talk to a dude. Whatever pings your pong."

"Is that how you always answer the phone?" Peter asked, before he could stop himself.

"Nope. I try to vary the end of the speech sometimes. Last call it was "whatever humps your camel", next one, I was planning on "whatever flies your flag". My personal favourite is "whatever blows your skirt up". Now, onto more important matters, since you didn't hang up on me to talk to my more male counterpart, what can I do for you?"

"Hi Allie. It's, um. Peter. From the weekend. I had a queer-identity bracelet emergency." Peter was proud of himself for not tripping over the words as they came spilling out of his mouth.

"Vanilla Bean! How's it hanging?"

"Um. Fine." Okay, so that was slightly less smooth.

"If you're going to come to Scrabble tonight, I really hope that your vocabulary consists of words with more than one syllable." He could hear her smile.

"Yeah... about that..." Peter was chickening out. He could feel it.

"Oh, come on. Don't be such a pussy."

He took a deep breath. "What time should I meet you?"

"We have to leave from here by 7:50 if we want to get to the hill, so any time before that."

"Cool. Um, see you then."

"It's a date, Vanilla Bean. Don't be late." The phone clicked and line went dead in his ear and Peter sat down. He was fucking exhausted.

*&*&*

"How are things going, Peter?" His mom's voice was exactly as chipper as it always was on Monday evenings.

"I could say that it was fine and you could tell me that was great and I could tell you about my architecture classes and then we could both go on for the rest of the week pretending that we know how each other is." Peter said, not meanly. He actually thought he sounded tired.

"Peter..." And, now that he listened to his mom, she sounded pretty tired, too.

"Mom, you really don't want to hear about it. Believe me."

"Tell me," she said and Peter stopped short. For the first time in, well, maybe forever, she sounded truly like she meant it.

He took a deep breath. "I went on a date last weekend." His voice was quiet, waiting for her reaction.

She was quiet for a minute. Then, "Oh? With who?"

The question surprised Peter, but he kept going. "Just a guy who stops by the coffee shop sometimes."

"Do you like this... boy?"

Peter nodded and then remembered that she couldn't see. "I do."

"Will you be seeing him again?"

That was the million dollar question, really. "Only if he comes into the coffee shop. I don't think we'll be going out again."

"Peter, I'm sorry."

She sounded like she meant it.

"It's okay, mom. It was my decision. It wasn't going to work out. He just. It just wasn't the right time for him. And, I met a new group of people last week and we played Scrabble, which sounds really lame, but was actually really fun. And, yeah. So... I start rehearsals for my friend Ainsley's play tomorrow. It's for her honor's project."

"Is that something you're going to have to do for your degree?"

"Maybe, if I finish the theatre major. We'll see how things go with the rest of my theatre classes. My architecture stuff is going well. I'll have to show you the model I'm working on. When it's done I'll take some pictures and send them your way." He knew that was the part she was more interested in. If she was trying, he could try, too.

"Absolutely. What kind of models are you working on?"

As he launched into an explanation, he could feel the conversation settling into a comfortable rhythm. Which was, in itself, slightly uncomfortable. She was trying. He was trying and he wasn't sure what to make of it all.

"What about Jess?" She asked when he was done his explanation.

"What about what?" He didn't understand what she was talking about.

"I thought maybe that's who your date was going to be with. You seem to get along so well."

"Jess? Mom. I told you..." Peter sighed. She'd been really good since the end of senior year. He knew she wasn't happy about it, but she hadn't arranged any meetings with daughters of her friends or coworkers or even brought up the subject of him dating a girl. "I told you that you didn't want to hear about girls that you think I should..."

She cut him off. "Jess is a girl?"

"You thought she was a boy?" This conversation was becoming almost incomprehensible.

"I thought... Yes. I guess?"

His _Mom_ almost sounded disappointed that he hadn't gone on a date with _Jess_ who she _thought was a guy_. Peter blinked his eyes closed tightly, hoping that when he opened them, this whole conversation would start making sense.

When they opened, however, he found himself staring at the clock. "Um. Mom," Peter was almost sorry for the next words that had to come out of his mouth. "I have to. Go. I have a shift tonight. I'm closing at the coffee shop, covering for Maria and I need to get ready. I'll talk to you later, okay?" The conversation was lasting longer than he had budgeted for and he was in danger of being late.

"Alright. Have a good shift tonight, honey."

Peter nodded. "Hope so. Night, mom."

Peter hung up the phone and stared at it for a second. That was... weird.

*&*&*

"Not that I don't appreciate it, because I really do, but why the sudden interest in my life?" Peter tucked his phone under his chin as he held two frozen pizzas in his hand, debating between them. It was Wednesday, 9:00pm and he was standing in the middle of Walgreens trying to decide which pizza to buy for his movie night with Jess and Markus and he'd nearly dropped the phone when he'd seen his mother's name on the call display.

"I've been talking to Father McPherson . He's new to St. Bartholomew's, you know, that church where Angie goes, and he's been really helpful. He's pointed out that maybe we, mostly me, could be doing things better. I think. I think you'd like him. Are you still talking to your...?"

"Dr. Weston. My psychiatrist. Yeah. Every week." Peter settled on a pizza that had everything except for anchovies because _ewww_ \- and shoved the pepperoni back into the freezer.

"It's good?"

"Very." Peter tucked a bottle of Pepsi under his arm and headed for the checkout. Where he saw the back of Allie's head waiting in one of the lines.

"Good."

"Hey, Mom? I gotta run. I'm about to drop an entire bottle of soda on the floor of Walgreens." He paused, took a deep breath. "I'll call you tomorrow?"

"Great. I'll look forward to it."

Peter managed to get his phone out from under his chin and successfully into the pocket of his jacket before sneaking up on Allie and pressing the cold soda bottle against her spine, laughing maniacally when she shrieked loud enough to scare everyone in a 13-mile radius and she turned around ready to glare at whoever it was that had assaulted her.

"Hey!" She grinned hugely when she saw that it was him. "Fun night you have planned?" She asked , appraising his purchases.

Peter looked down at the frozen pizza and bottle of soda in one arm and the basket full of toilet paper, a package of AA batteries, a jar of frosting, 2 light bulbs, a package of crayons (Markus' request), shaving cream, a package of blank DVDs, and an industrial-sized jar of hand cream for the dressing room at the theatre department, because it was on sale.

"World Domination. Gotta be prepared," Peter replied solemnly. "I already have the duct tape and coffeemaker."

Allie picked up a tube of purple glittery lipgloss and tossed it into his basket. "Just in case."

Peter rolled his eyes at her. "Seriously? How gay do you think I am, exactly?"

"Pretty freaking gay," she replied with a grin.

It was just then that her companion finished paying for their purchases and turned around to face them and Peter found himself speechless when he was face-to-face with a pair of stunning green eyes.

Handing his purchases to the cashier, Peter heard Allie clear her throat.

"As I was saying. Peter, this is my roommate Eric. Eric, this is Vanilla Bean."

"Yeah, we've met," Eric replied, smiling a bright and friendly smile at Peter. "His macchiatos get me through theatre history."

"Yeah, we have Run Crew together." Peter added.

"I thought you were going to be an architect?" Allie asked. "Now I find out you're in theatre, too? Well, okay, I was going to let your lack of a boyfriend slide because I have no idea how hard it is to find gays in architecture. But, seriously? You're in theatre." She looked back and forth between Peter and Eric three or four times before she elbowed Eric in the side. "You should have helped him out. What kind of older, wiser student are you if you don't help with the important stuff?"

Eric just blushed and glared at her. "We're doing Ainsley's play together. You remember her, yeah?" he said, thankfully shifting the conversation.

"Yeah, sure. She's the one who had the thing on her ear at the party."

"And, he comes by the library when I'm working Saturday afternoons and my bosses aren't around to see me slacking. He's torturing himself by trying to help me with Calculus II. Since he's weird and took it for fun." Peter looked over at Eric, who was still blushing, but had also moved on to pretending to look insulted.

"He does, huh? Saturday afternoons when he's supposed" She looked over at Eric, making some sort of facial expression that Eric must have understood because he shot her a glare that could have frozen a volcano solid.

"You work at the library, too? When do you sleep?" Allie laughed and turned back towards Peter. "Hey! Speaking of, are you coming to QD next week? Build-your-own fajitas and mix-your-own margaritas and Angela is making a naughty piata." She waggled her eyebrows at him.

Peter nodded. "Yeah, um, I guess."

"You'd better! It's at my building. Wilde House. 2410 Warring. It's, like, a block north of the QARC. Green trim on the outside, loud people in the inside. Can't miss it." She called over her shoulder as she and Eric walked out of the store, Allie tucking neatly against Eric's side and Eric's arm sliding around her waist.

"Hey, Allie!" Peter called. When she turned around, he threw the now-scanned but yet-to-be-paid-for tube of lip gloss at her head. "Merry Unbirthday. I think purple's more your colour. See you tomorrow."

*&*&*

When Peter walked through the front door of Wilde House, he felt like he entered another world. There were people everywhere.

There were about six people gathered around a pool table, a couple of people plinking away a melody on a piano and people just... everywhere. Sitting and standing and talking and reading.

When Allie saw him, she bounded across the room and leapt at him, wrapping her legs around his waist as he grabbed her under her arms. "Peter!"

"And, you've started mixing your own margaritas already, haven't you?" He laughed at her.

"Someone had to get this party started," she replied with mock seriousness.

Peter looked around. "Is it always like this?"

"What, the house? Every day. Though, sometimes with more nudity. Come, see my room. Which is totally not a proposition, but I have a whole bunch of shit up there that I'm going to make you carry back down with you." She grabbed him by the hem of his t-shirt and dragged him up the stairs.

Her room was typical dorm fare. Standard-issue furniture on two halves of the room that looked like mirror images of each other. Except for the huge, rainbow-coloured abstract paintings on canvases that took up about 80% of the available wall space on both sides of the room.

"Those paintings are amazing."

"Yeah, I'm lucky. Eric didn't care what I did with the room. And, thanks. I just finished that one with all the green and purple a couple of days ago. Ink's barely dry and I think it might be raining glitter on Eric's bed, but whatever. He secretly loves it."

"They're yours?" Peter was amazed.

"Fingerpainting classes must be paying off, huh?" Allie smiled. "It's what I do when I'm not studying history."

"When I'm rich and famous for doing something that hopefully requires me to work less than 20 hours a week, I will pay you to paint some of these for my house. And... what? Eric? This is Eric's room?"

"Yeah...." Allie's voice was confused. "It's our room. Why?"

"He's, like, your roommate roommate?" Peter just stared at her.

"I thought I said that at Walgreens. I did say that at Walgreens, didn't I?"

"I didn't think... I mean... Like 'you share a room' roommates."

Allie grinned. "Are you, like, totally scandalized? Do you need to sit down? Glass of water? Ice pack? Fainting couch?"

"I just figured that you meant that you guys shared an apartment or whatever. Not..." he gestured.

"Perk of living in the gay mecca. You don't have to be gay to live here, but it pretty much helps. And, it's the only place you can have an opposite gender roommate. Makes things way less awkward, actually. Stops you from having any desire to have sex with roommate. There'd be way less drama, except, you know, gay men bring the drama."

Peter felt his face flush.

"Oh, are your virgin ears burning? I could scandalize you some more if you like." Allie grinned.

Peter looked at her from around the large pile of plastic cups she'd just shoved into his arms.

"Eric's gay?" Peter asked, partly for something to say, and partly because her words had just started to sink in.

"Have you met him?" she asked.

"He never said..."

"But, I'm sure he _spoke_ at some point." Allie just stared at him.

"He... Well. I...."

"Apparently have absolutely no gaydar whatsoever. No wonder you can't get laid." Allie added a couple of more packages of paper plates to the stack of cups.

"He's never come to QD with us before..." Peter started lamely.

"He has a class in something called Differential Geometry. Don't ask me what that is. Or why he keeps taking upper level math classes when he's a theatre major. He used to come last semester."

"But Katie..." Peter could see Eric and Katie cuddling during Run Crew seminars even in his mind. "They're always...."

"I officially give up. I need way more margaritas if I'm going to be able to handle this. And, you just need more margaritas in general. Let's go."

*&*&*

"You know, you don't really have to give up your Saturday afternoons to hang out behind the help desk with me," Peter replied, scribbling the final answers to his latest problem set into his notebook.

"It's not that big of a deal," Eric replied. "I used to pretty much be here on a lot of Saturdays anyway, the change in geography isn't really a big thing."

"Allie seemed to think you were somewhere else on Saturdays."

"There's no accounting for the way her mind works." Peter thought his reply sounded a little hurried, but he was probably just imagining things.

Peter shrugged. "Hey, I'm thrilled for the company. I seem to be the one benefiting from this whole situation, anyway. I can't believe you've somehow managed to make this entire calculus thing comprehensible."

"Are you sure? I mean, before I started hanging out here every weekend, there was a cute brown-haired guy who stopped by a lot more often...." Eric's voice trailed off.

"You noticed?" It was true, Aaron was cute. And, he had stopped by pretty much every Saturday before their ill-fated date.

Eric shrugged and kept his eye on his geometry textbook.

"Don't worry. If you were cramping my style, I would make sure to let you know. Trust me, you are not the reason he doesn't come by anymore. It didn't work out."

"Ex-boyfriend? Sorry. I didn't mean to bring it up. Never mind. It's not my business. Forget I said anything." Eric did look truly sorry.

"Not at all. It wasn't... It was one good date with one bad ending, actually." Peter took a deep breath. "He was... not out. Kinda sucked, actually." This got easier and easier to say every time he said it. Peter ran his fingertips along the band of beaded leather around his wrist. "It's how I met Allie, actually. I ended up at QARC after our disaster of a date. Figures the first guy interested in me since Jas-... Well, in forever had to find my one dealbreaker." Peter was floored. He'd almost said Jason's name. He hadn't said it out loud anywhere other than Dr. Weston's office since St. Cecilia's. He almost never even thought it.

Eric blinked in surprise. "Not out? He was awfully not subtle for someone not out. I always figured you met him at QD."

Peter shook his head. "Nope. It would have been better if I had. We had a ton of stuff in common. It could have been really good, maybe. But, I'm done with all that. But, I can't pull someone out of the closet. That doesn't end -- . It's... complicated? Never mind. But, yeah, I met him his name was Aaron at the coffee shop. I feel kinda badly about that, though. He hasn't been in to get coffee since then. I hope he's found another caffeine source, otherwise I'm going to feel even worse."

"I think he's probably not mourning the lack of caffeine as much as something else," Eric said quietly, flipping through his textbook.

*&*&*

Peter waved to Eric as he watched him head towards the rehearsal hall. The actors had a non-tech rehearsal today while Peter finished up his shift here.

"Seriously," Jess interrupted. "Why do you get ALL the hot guys?"

"Huh? And, besides, does Brian know you talk like that?"

"He does. He loves me anyway. But, that one..." she pointed to Eric's retreating back.

"That's Eric. We have a theatre class together." Peter smiled as he watched Eric leave.

"So he just spent 30 minutes here, watching you, waiting for you to have a break because you have a class together?"

Peter stuck out his tongue. "He's teaching me calculus and today was the last time we had to meet before my test tomorrow."

"Teaching you calculus?" Jess made finger quotes in the air.

"Shut up. He is. He comes to the library on my Saturday shift and he teaches me how not to fail calculus when my bosses aren't around and I pay him with caffeine. But he couldn't make it last weekend so he stopped by on his way to rehearsal today. He's Allie's roommate. You remember her from the QD barbeque I dragged you too, right?"

"Totally. Turns out she's in my British History class. We make fun of you for two hours every week now. It's great. If Brian and I ever break up, I'm totally going after her."

"I knew I shouldn't have introduced you. And, hey, you could tell that Eric's gay?" Peter asked.

"Dude. I bet he bleeds rainbow and cries sparkly tears. You really don't have any gaydar whatsoever. Don't they take away your membership card for that? Check for a tramp stamp next time, I'll bet it says "GAY" in tribal ink right above his ass. Now... tell me more about this "calculus" of which you speak," she said, waggling her eyebrows.

Peter rolled his eyes. "He's Allie's roommate, we have a class together, and he's teaching me calculus. That's it. End of story."

"Every Saturday." Jess looked thoughtful.

"Pardon?"

"You said he comes into the library every Saturday?"

Peter nodded.

"To teach you calculus."

He nodded again.

"For free?"

"I supply him with caffeine." The defence didn't sound as strong as it was supposed to.

"Calculus? That's it? Every Saturday?"

Peter was kind of frightened by the expression on Jess's face. "Well, sometimes we work on theatre class stuff. Or, other homework. Or, sometimes we just watch people do stupid shit on YouTube."

"And, you're always like that?" Jess waved her hands emphatically.

"Like what?"

"Like you were just now. With the talking and the in-jokes and the laughing and, you know, the flirting?"

"We weren't flirting!"

"You were. You might have been doing it accidently. He, however, was doing it on purpose."

"You are seeing shit."

"Dude. I'm not. How long has it been since you went on a date?" She held up her hand and started counting off on her fingers.

"Aaron, November. You know that. I would have told you."

"And, the last time he was on a date?" She pointed to a second finger.

"I don't know, I didn't ask."

"Does he ever mention a boyfriend? Or friend with benefits? Dates?"

Peter shook his head and watched her point to a third finger.

"And, when's the last time you thought about asking a guy out? Or wanting a guy to ask you out."

Peter tried to think. "November?"

"And, how long has this whole library calculus and coffee-based flirtation been going on?"

"November?" It wasn't really a question, he wasn't sure why it came out that way. Maybe it was the fourth finger.

"And, now it's April." Jess just stared at him, waiting, holding up all five fingers and waving them in his face.

"What?"

"I'm just waiting for you to do the math."

Peter opened and closed his mouth a few times, fairly certain he looked like a fish. "I wasn't paying attention! When did all this happen?"

She sighed and whacked him across the back of the head with the hand she'd been holding up. "Someday, you're going to be able to do this without me. I have faith."

*&*&*

Peter adjusted the headset he was wearing. The light on his headset was flashing. He flicked over to comm mode. "Peter."

"Hey, it's Eric."

"What's up? Your cue is in, like, 4 lines." Peter grabbed a pencil in case he needed to scribble some notes on his script.

"I'm having a problem with my mic pack."

It was then that Peter glanced down and saw the unlit bulb where there should be a solid red flare. It was just as he was fiddling with a connection at the back of the soundboard with Eric rambling in his ears about stealing the stage manager's headset and how he had no idea what on earth could have happened to his mic when every light in the theatre went out and Eric's voice cut-out mid-sentence.

"I'll check out the circuits in the basement," Jennie said, grabbing a flashlight and heading for the back stairs to the basement.

Peter nodded and made his way to the stage, lighting his way with the flashlight he had shoved in the back pocket of his jeans.

He was guiding himself towards the back of the stage where the electrical panels were, when he felt a hand fist into the material of the back of his t-shirt and yank him backwards.

"Hey, Peter. Can you check out my mic?" Eric's voice was almost too loud in the stunned silence that the blackness had caused.

"Um. Yeah. Just let me check the panel at the back of... " Peter was cut short when he felt Eric press his mic pack into his palm.

"Um..." Peter fumbled with the pack for a few seconds, holding his flashlight in his mouth while he checked the connections and the battery pack until he came across the problem. "Uh... Eric?"

"Hmm?" Peter could feel Eric's breath on his ear.

"You had it turned off."

"Really?" He didn't sound very surprised. "Silly me. Hey, hook me up, huh?"

In the shadow of his flashlight, he could see Eric turn around and lift the back of his t-shirt up to allow Peter to hook the mic pack onto the waistband of his pants.

Just as he was about to secure the mic in place, Eric spun around and somehow, Peter ended up with his arms wrapped around Eric's waist. As he went to move, he felt Eric's arms slide around his waist.

"Eric. What... what are you doing?" Peter tried to squirm out of Eric's arms, which were now wrapped tightly around his waist, fingers laced together at the small of his back, and didn't seem to be showing any sign of letting go.

"Just... relax," he replied by way of explanation."It's cool."

"You. We. This. I. What?"

Eric just shook his head and smiled down at Peter and just kept smiling as he pressed their lips together.

Peter just sort of gasped in surprise and was too shocked to do anything other than just stand there, dumbfounded. Still unable to move, even when the lights suddenly flicked on in the theatre.

Eric was laughing as he pulled back slightly. Far enough that he could speak clearly, but close enough that his lips still rubbed against Peter's with every syllable. "Did you know that your friend Jess stopped by to see Allie at the house the other day? The two of them made a pretty convincing argument for our general obliviousness and why I should just come out and tell you that I'm out. You know, pretty much everywhere. To, like, everyone."

"What are you doing? What is this?"

"This is me. Showing you that I can be totally okay with kissing you in a room filled with people we know and see every day and not care who sees. Just in case you were wondering."

Eric looped his arms loosely around Peter's neck and, a big grin still on his face, he half-kissed half-laughed against Peter's mouth. "I'll give you some time to decide what you want to do with that information." He kissed him one more time and then pulled back, letting the tips of his fingers slide slowly along the back of his neck. "I'll talk to you after rehearsal, yeah?"

Peter just found himself nodding dumbly and watched Eric head back to the rest of the people who were waiting in the wings, stage right. They were supposed to be rehearsing. Mostly, it seemed like they were all mostly just staring at the pair of them.

Peter flushed and ducked his head down and shuffled as unobtrusively as he could towards the tech booth.

He was settling back in his chair behind the soundboard when he heard Eric's voice come through his headset again. "Hey, one more thing."

"You know everyone with a headset hears what comes through these things, right?" Peter didn't actually want to _die_ of embarrassment today so he felt the need for the forewarning.

"While you're deciding what you'd like to do with that information, I just thought I would let you know that I'm free tonight. And, you know, tomorrow. "

Peter felt his face flush again. "Well, um. I. Yeah. That's. Good."

"Good?" He could hear Eric's smile.

"Yeah. It's good." Peter could feel his grin. "Now, give Kyle his damned headset back before I change my mind and find someone else to have plans with tonight and I go back to using you for your brain." Except, apparently, he really had been wanting to date Eric for the last 5 months and it turned out that he really did need Jess to point it out.

It was good.

Fuck that, it was _great._


End file.
